Organic Instability
by Surarrin
Summary: I opened the door and found Justine standing there naked as the day she was born except for a single white bow—I'll let you guess where it was. I made a chance decision to pull her inside before anyone else saw. Little did I know what fate had in store.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a short Dresden/Justine piece set around the end of Grave Peril. It was originally written in August of 2011 and hosted inside Work by Author on DarkLordPotter. I figured it was about time that I uploaded it to for the rest of you guys who don't follow my work off of here._

 _The original piece was a continuous series of snippets, I've separated it into 3 'chapters' for reading convenience, separating them at the appropriate milestones. Enjoy._

* * *

 **Organic Instability**

Part One

—~—

It hadn't been more than a day since I had gotten home from the hospital before there was someone knocking at my door. Twilight had begun to set, and the city lights of Chicago were beginning to filter through the dusty highset windows in my apartment.

I made my way towards the front door and glanced through the peephole. A newly familiar face resided on the other side, a face both lovely and sweet, and one I wasn't entirely thrilled to see again so soon, but none the less I began to unlock the door.

And the words*—whatever they had been died on my lips without so much as a sound.

A figure, barely five-five stood. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her arms were wrapped around her mid-section. Gooseflesh could be seen on her exposed skin… and considering that she was naked as the day she had been born there was a significant amount of it. Black hair framed her face as her dark eyes flickered over my face, alive and at the same time dulled.

It was a cold night—I notice these kind of things.

The last time I had seen Justine had been over a week prior as she and Susan assisted me and my broken body in escaping from the burning manor that I had set on fire. She had been wearing little more than rags then.

What she was wearing now was substantially less.

A pure white bow was wrapped around her neck, and attached to it was a small card.

"…Justine," I finally managed to say, words managing to form upon my lips against all odds. She didn't respond, and simply continued to stand in my doorway.

It took me a few more seconds to realize that the card attached to the ribbon had some words on it. It was a thank you note from Thomas, for saving Justine specifically. I swallowed and shook myself out of my flesh induced stupor. It was at that point that I realized that she was standing in plain sight for everyone to see. I reached forwards and grasped her soft, smooth hand, tugging her forwards into my apartment before shutting the door behind her.

"Justine—what the hell?" I demanded to know as I turned to face her.

She smiled sweetly up at me, demure and enticing. "Thomas wanted to offer you his appreciation for saving me, Mister Dresden," she explained in a soft voice.

"By sending you to me _naked_?" I said incredulously.

Justine nodded, her arms dropping from her stomach to her sides, unashamedly revealing her slender, scrumptious form. She looked a few shades healthier than I remembered. "Thomas knew you wouldn't accept money for helping us, and he noticed that during the… party your gaze lingered upon me." She bit a small lip between her teeth.

"I… I wanted to thank you as well. I remember it, in the manor, with you… when... that thing was inside me… and when I cried... you comforted me, even though you were dying." Her smouldering eyes met mine, and I felt a tug, that I barely managed to avoid by looking away.

"Look," I began. "I appreciate the gesture, but I can't accept…" You. But I couldn't very well say that.

"Why did you bring me into your home then?" Justine asked, her dark eyes confused as she looked to me.

"Because you were butt-naked on the street," I said incredulously. "What did you think I was going to do, leave you out there to freeze?

"Thomas left the moment you closed the door," Justine said calmly, "He told me if you accepted then he would come back tomorrow morning to pick me up."

I grimaced and spared her one last glance. "Alright, look. Take a seat and I'll get you something to put on." I said and gestured towards the lounge room, before briskly heading away from the saucy little psychotic minx. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a hint of supple derriere, one that artists and poets alike would have immortalized in centuries past.

Don't get me wrong, Justine was definitely pretty enough, and sweet enough when she wasn't walking the razor's edge of an organic emotional instability—and I couldn't really hold that against her, but there was far too much ick factor with sharing a girl with a sex vampire.

I entered my room and went to a draw, opening it and sorting through it for something reasonable for the young girl to wear. I fished out an old white t-shirt that hadn't seen the light of day in months, but was still clean. It came to my waist when I wore it on a slender short girl like Justine I'd be surprised if didn't reach her knees.

When I returned to the lounge room, I found Justine standing in the same position, looking around at the rustic interior of the lounge room, a faint curiosity glimmering inside her eyes as she eyed my antique bookcase filled with books of years past and rarely used video cassettes.

I held out the shirt to her. "Here."

Justine turned her gaze away from the bookcase and briefly looked at the shirt, before accepting it and sliding it on over her head. As I expected the hem of the shit reached her lower thighs, covering all the wonderful sections of flesh that I was already missing.

Justine murmured a thank you, smiling at me in the same way as before.

"Do you know Thomas' phone number?" I asked.

"No. He hasn't replaced his phone since your magic fried it," Justine explained calmly. "He isn't looking forwards to explaining to his father why he wasn't inside the manor when it burned down.

"And you don't know where he is staying tonight, do you?"

Justine turned to face me and gave me a small smile.

"I figured," I said and let out a long breath. "Alright, cut to the chase, what do you want?" My tone calm and entirely reasonable, all things considered.

Her eyes widened a fraction of an inch, showing the whites around her iris. Her lips parted slightly and she seemed to shrink back. "Mister Dresden," she murmured quietly. "Thomas sent me here to convey... his gratitude for saving me from Bianca."

I held up a hand to stop her. "See, that's what I don't get. He's _thanking_ me by sending _you_ to me, who he is _thanking_ me for saving." "That doesn't make much sense to me."

Justine's eyes, wide and dilated, now that I took a brief moment to look, gleamed in a haze of drug-like euphoria. Hell's bells, I doubted she even knew what she was doing here.

"Thomas noticed," Justine repeated after a moment. "How you looked at me those nights ago." "He knew you wouldn't accept any money for compensation."

"I would have," I said with blunt honestly and no shame.

The dark haired beauties lips pursed, and she matched my gaze unwaveringly, forcing me to look away. Most people, you'll find have a hard time meeting and maintaining another person's gaze. Go ahead, go out and try it. Walk up to a random stranger and look them directly in the eye. After a few seconds the barriers will drop and you'll feel as if your deepest secrets are being exposed.

Wizard's stray to the literal side of the equation. When a wizard looks into you, they look _into_ you, and look upon your very soul. It isn't a one sided affair. For every soul I've looked upon, and had burned into my memory in pure technicolour, for every person who has claimed a piece of my memory for themselves, each of them has a shard of a glimpse of my own soul within them.

Justine, had no such compulsions. She took a step towards me, and brought a hand up to her chest, holding her palm over the curve of a breast. "Mister Dresden," she said softly, her voice sweet and warm. She stepped closer, and the hand upon her chest reached up and touched upon mine. Her body melded against mine in the most pleasant of fashions, spreading warmth through my body as she buried her face upon the hollow of my throat, sending electricity racing down my spine.

I allowed my eyes to flutter closed and took stock of my thought processes and as I did, exhaling in a long slow breath. I drew my hands up and set them upon Justine's shoulders, drawing her backwards, off of my front.

It was too easy to forget. Justine was too young, too sweet, too unconsciously sexy and seemingly gentle. But behind that exterior, laid a strength and madness that had been ready to throw my friends and I to the monsters if we had refused to help her.

When I opened my eyes again, I found Justine's large doe-like eyes staring up at me, lust smouldering in their depths, uninhibited, held back by restraint gained from the monster that had her enthralled.

"You can sleep in my bed," I stated after a moment. "I'll take the lounge, and first thing tomorrow you're gone."

Justine bit down on her bottom lip uncertainly, sending a wave of desire pushing through me, despite myself. No matter what the situation was, she was a beautiful girl, and my body was all too willing. The dark haired girl gave a small nod to herself, before smiling up at me faintly.

"Thank you Mister Dresden,"

"Call me Harry."

"Thank you, Harry," she corrected herself softly.

It was at that point my stomach rumbled.

My cheeks tinged a light red and Justine's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Would you like me to cook dinner for you, Mist… Harry?" Justine asked with a glimmer of hope in her voice.

I blinked, and looked at Justine, as if seeing her for the first time.

My apartment was on fire, and it wasn't my fault.

Justine was slumped in a corner, staring wide eyed at the immolated kitchen, her eyes, ever lovely were filled with a naked fear of the flames that were currently reducing my belongings to cinders.

It had been a small mercy that I had been watching her as she went about preparing to cook, and for the first time I had incontrovertible proof that she was a talent.

How else could she have been capable of burning water?

I rushed back into the kitchen, a bucket full of water from the laundry and threw it at the roaring inferno. There was a splash, and a hiss and the flames found themselves doused in non-flammable water. As the fire died down I saw the remains of my stove. The white plastic-like paint had been charred to a grim black where it remained, and where it had been utterly burned through there was a thin film of char covering the metal stove top.

I let out a long breath and stared at it, mourning the loss of the grand or so it'd take to get the damage fixed. I winced. There went what pittance I had in savings.

"O-oh god, I'm so sorry Harry!" Justine stammered out as she stared at the drenched and charred kitchen in front of her.

I glanced back at her tiny form huddled up against the wall and sighed, dropping the bucket. It clanked against the ground causing the girl to flinch. "Are you alright?"

Justine twitched her head in a faint nod. "I... I never thought... cooking would be so dangerous..." she whispered, and wrapped her arms around herself, holding herself in a tight embrace as her gaze flickered between the stove and me.

"…Normally it isn't," I admitted, my voice strained as I offered her a hand.

Justine stared at it for a moment before reaching up and grasping my too large hand in her own, pulling herself up to her feet. She stumbled as she reached her full height and I found her pressed against my front. She buried her face upon my chest and wrapped her arms around my chest, holding herself tightly to me.

I stared down at her awkwardly, before slowly wrapping my arm around her, giving her a pat on the back. "—Er… There, there," I attempted lamely.

She sniffled and mumbled a sorry as she clung to me.

"It…it's fine," I said after a moment. "...I wanted to replace that old thing anyway," I tried to rationalize why I wasn't enraged at my property being torched. On an instinctual level I knew it was because Justine was all too feminine, and all too close to me for me to even consider lashing out verbally. I let my head drop a fraction of an inch forwards, and my nose found itself brushing against the crest of her hair, and the scent of wild strawberries mixed with burned paint began to overwhelm me.

"We should get out of here," I said and gently began to nudge Justine towards the door. She nodded against my chest and shuffled along with me, not willing to let go just yet.

She mumbled another apology through a faint sniffle and tilted her head back, looking up at me. "…Harry."

I said nothing until I had managed to get her into the lounge room and shut the kitchen door behind me. The smell of burned paint was strong in here as well. "How about Pizza?" I offered after a moment of silence.

"…I like pizza," Justine murmured quietly and gave a small abashed smile.

"Pizza it is," I agreed, smiling down at her and stepping away. "Why don't you take a load off?" I gestured towards the couch.

Justine nodded and glanced over at the couch before heading over and sitting down demurely, causing the long shirt to rise up her thighs and… I couldn't look away. It took Justine a few seconds to notice I was staring, and then her cheeks flushed a lovely pink, and her hands tugged on the end of the shirt, covering herself up. "…Mister Dresden," she said in an embarrassed little voice, looking away and crossing her ankles.

My gaze snapped away and I uttered a half-hearted apology before I mechanically, stiffly walked over to the phone and punched in the number for my local pizza joint.

Authentic Nicks Pizza—not to be confused with Terrific' Authentic Nicks Pizza, had the best pizzas this side of the wall. The phone rang ten times before a voice answered on the other end. Which meant they were having a slow night. They made it a policy to never answer early if it was a slow night. On the flipside, if the phone didn't hit the third ring the pizza wouldn't be delivered for the better part of an hour.

It seemed I was in luck.

I placed the order after getting a mumbled 'Vegetarian' from Justine when I enquired as to what type of animal carcass she wanted on her pizza. I dropped the phone back onto it's hook and turned back towards the lounge.

"It'll be about fifteen minutes." "I understand."

I watched as Justine fidgeted, looking around my apartment at the various oddities that were no doubt strewn across it.

"You have video tapes, but no television," Justine said suddenly, and looked up at me. "Why?"

"They were gifts, you don't throw out gifts."

She nodded and continued to fidget, rubbing her thighs together, no doubt to get warm, considering she was only wearing a shirt.

"Do you want me to try and find you... uh... some clothes that might fit?" I asked awkwardly, trying to picture her slender figure sitting into my comparably massive pants or boxers.

She gave a short nod and bit down on her bottom lip in that adorable mannerism that preceded a question from her. "Would it be alright if I had a shower?" she asked.

I blinked at the request, but nodded. "Yeah, of course," I said and gestured for her to follow me, before leading her back to the bathroom a few rooms away. I pointed towards a cupboard inside the bathroom beside the bathtub. "Towels are in there." I glanced around the bathroom, taking in the lack of... anything really in it.

There was a half empty can of shaving cream, and no razor, the soap had been used up- I needed more, and the shampoo was a generic brand that I had purchased in bulk that smelled like a cross between a shot of whisky and old spice.

A far cry from the five star hotels she was no doubt used to.

It was why I found myself stunned in confusion as she gave a lovely smile that seemed to send a ticklish warmth up my chest. "It's perfect," she said in her soft voice as she eyed the mirror that had gone a month without being wiped down, the frosted glass of the shower and the brass clothes hooks that sat upon the wall.

"Right, well, I'll be in the lounge room if you need me," I informed her and stepped out, casting half a glance back as I did, just in time to see the soft curve of derrière as she began to lift my shirt up. I quickly averted my gaze, despite having seen all of it- and more already.

As soon as I shut the door behind me, I took three steps away and faced a wall, before lightly smacking my forehead against it. I hadn't been prepared to play to anyone, much less a small, young, impressionable drugged up... lovely girl who had come here with every intention of... of what I did not even know.

She had proven herself to be determined, guileful, deceitful and not shy of using threats to get her way. She was quite literally, an emotional roller-coaster who was terrifyingly capable of turning her charms to her use, as she had proven at the Masquerade.

It was at that point that I realized the ringing in my head wasn't from the repeated thuds of my head against the wall, but knocks on the front door.

I let out a long breath. Come on Harry, get your game face on, I berated myself, steely my features as I headed to the door, grabbing my wallet on the way. I absently noted the round of the shower being turned on, and the creek of the pipes inside the walls as I opened the front door.

The sun had long since set and the night was illuminated from lampposts and the scant light that escaped from houses through their blinds. The stars overhead had been shrouded in the artificial light from the city.

A stubble covered face greeted me on my door step, in a familiar uniform that consisted of a blue and red polo shirt and a matching truckers cap with 'Nicks emblazoned on a pizza logo. It had the name Freddy in capitals stitched into the fabric. The shirt hung loosely, it was for a much larger man. It had a fairly new stain of shirt on the cuff.

This was obviously not Freddy.

"You're not Freddy." I stated bluntly.

The man before me raised a brown eyebrow that disappeared into his hairline. "Yeah no kidding, what gave it away?" he said in an unfamiliar accent with what could be considered a waspish tone. He pulled a ticket out of his pocket. "Dresden, One polka-dot pig and greens," he recited, his eyes flickering up to me. "That'll be twenty bucks."

I blinked at that. In the four years I'd been a customer they'd never dropped their prices. I wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I shoved two tens into his hand and took the pizzas from him. They were heavy with the weight of the delicious food inside.

I could just smell it, warm freshly made.

Not Freddy glanced down at the two notes in his hand and raised an eyebrow at me.

Oh what the hell? I had been prepared to spend an extra five. I dropped an extra note into his hand and received a sharp nod in return before he turned and left, no doubt off to deliver more pizzas.

Using my incredible balancing skills, I lifted a foot up and used it to swing the door shut with a meaty thud off oak against metal. As the door closed, I frowned, and sniffed the air again. The familiar, warm gooey smell of pizza was decidedly lacking, as was the warmth from the pizza boxes.

Come to think of it, it had only been about seven minutes.

I walked into the dining room and dropped the boxes onto the table, before flipping open the lid of the top one. I stared down at the multi-coloured monstrosity sitting before me for a few seconds, and slowly digested what I was seeing, and as I did a frown came to my lips.

The pizza hadn't even been cooked.

I prodded it with a finger.

The dough was still raw.

The cheese hadn't been melted.

They had just shoved the pizza in the box and sent it on it's way.

I grimaced and closed the pizza box.

O'pizza why hath thou forsaken I?

Despite my better judgement, I shifted the box aside and set it down on the table beside the unopened box, before resigning myself to what I was no doubt going to see.

I flipped the lid up and found myself staring at something incomprehensible.

I stared for a few seconds longer, before the bottom of my stomach seemed to vanish. Suddenly the very concept off dinner seemed to absurd that I couldn't help but let out a strained laugh.

Since when had Nicks' started selling pipe-bomb pizza?

I swallowed the lump that had appeared in my throat and stared at the smallish explosive cylinder and took reign of the terror that found itself bubbling up inside me. I couldn't afford the chance that an errant twitch of emotion could give off enough of a magical discharge that it prematurely set off the timer.

I had to remain calm.

It was of course, at this moment that Justine came stumbling through the doorway leading to the bathroom, a large towel wrapped around her still dripping form, her hair clumped up against her skull, her skin pale and at the same time her cheeks burned a bright pink. "H-harry," she called my name, her teeth chattering as she walked over to me. "T-there's n-no hot water." she stammered out as she tugged the towel tighter around her slender form,

I blinked. I had forgotten to tell her as much. I had become used to it, it hadn't occurred to me that she would have liked to know. Now that I think about it, maybe that had been why Susan had never...

A stab of pain lanced through my heart and I immediately shifted my attention away from the emotional matter, steeling my nerves as I looked down at the open pizza box.

Justine, as cold as she was, was quick to notice that my gaze had not strayed near her, despite her approaching me. Her gaze peeked over the lid of the pizza box, and what little colour she had in her cheeks seemed to bleach out until her skin was one smooth expanse of creamy white.

"M-Mister Dresden." Justine stared at the pizza-bomb, her eyes caught somewhere between dilating and constricting due to the conflicting signals of her mental state. "W-why is there a type-54 class pipe bomb inside the pizza you ordered?" She whispered, her voice low and fearful.

I blinked and looked up at her. "How the he—I mean, you know what this is?" I demanded to know in disbelief.

Justine gave a short nod and bit down sweetly on her bottom lip. "Y-you need to throw it into the street before it explodes," the young girl spoke, her voice hurried.

I shook my head. "No can do, sweet-cheeks," I said immediately. "There'd been too much collateral damage, and someone could get hurt."

Justine stared at me in disbelief. "If you don't—we'll both die!" she cried out and moved forwards, her towel falling away and pooling at her feet as she gripped my arm with her slender hands. "Mis—Harry, please, just throw it down into the drain—anything!"

I gave a fierce jerk of my head. "No!" I snapped out, casting her a brief glare. "There's no safe place to throw it, I need to defuse it," I spat out, angry at myself for having wasted money on ordering a freaking rain cheque on life.

That bastard had made me tip him.

I wasn't going to stand for it.

I—

Justine's hands flashed down from my forearm into the pizza box, gripping the metallic cylinder. The world seemed to slow down as I watched her deft fingers slide over the small package of explosive death, and I saw my life flash before my eyes, parts of it anyway, the violent parts.

Justine gave a tight twist and popped the end of the pipe bomb off before the detonator, timer and satchel of what looked to be a small chunk of c4 dropped into her hand. She tossed the casing aside and her fingers blurred before a vicious swipe of her hand tore the wiring out from the detonator and timer.

My heart stopped.

And then the strangest thing happened.

It continued to beat.

—~—


	2. Chapter 2

**Organic Instability**

Part Two

—~—

I stared at Justine's face in disbelief as she stared down at the pieces of the pipe bomb in her hands and then she stumbled backwards, and her hands went limp, dropping the parts to the table with a clanking sound.

The girl's eyes were wide, and her pupils had constricted. Her whole naked form trembled as she fell backwards onto her ass, and her arms came up, wrapping around her chest in a self-hug.

"…W…wow." I swallowed. "That was… really… impressive," I managed to choke out as I continued to stare down at her.

Justine gave a nervous laugh, and her hands gripped her arms tighter. "It was wasn't it?" she murmured as she stared at the parts of the bomb, "I have no idea what I just did," she admitted.

A cold feeling began to spread through my chest. She hadn't known what to do? She hadn't even hesitated for a moment and tore the wires out.

Suddenly, the room was filled with laughter. It wasn't joyful laughter, or cheerful, the voice held no elation. It was empty of anything but pure unadulterated horror. It took me a few seconds to realize it was my laughter that I was hearing.

Justine's gaze flickered up from the bomb's scrap parts to me, confusion in her wide brown eyes. "W-why are you laughing?"

My laughter died away, and I smiled at her. Her madness must have been contagious. "Because you just yanked the wires out of a bomb without knowing what you were doing." I chuckled. "And I'm still here," I said lightly, my smile straining against the borders between genuine and maniacal.

A shiver ran through Justine rather attractively and she wrapped her arms that much tighter around herself.

It took me a few seconds to collect myself and somber up.

I crouched down beside her, and gathered up the towel she had discarded on her way through the room and wrapped it around her shoulders. "...You did good kid," I murmured and absently reached up to her face, and brushed some of her matted hair behind her ear.

Justine stared up at my face with a blank look with a faint look of mercurial hope glimmering in her eyes. I looked away purposefully after a half second and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "You did real good," I repeated. "Come on, let's get you dried up and into something a bit warmer," I suggested.

Eventually she managed to stand up, using her long, luscious legs that were made for doing things that had nothing to do with locomotion. I hooked a hand around her waist and gently guided her from the living room into my bedroom, which was the warmest room in the two room, one subbasement apartment. It wasn't saying much.

Justine's hands gripped the large towel tighter around her as she stood beside the bed, her eyes darting around the room, and over to the bathroom where the t-shirt I had loaned her was folded up neatly on top of the hamper before eventually her eyes rolled across my form, and a shiver ran through her, which probably had something to do with the cold.

"Well then," I said after a moment of awkward hungry silence. "I'll go… make something to eat," I said after a moment and made my heroic escape back out of the room.

I let out a long slow breath as I shut the door behind me, managing to not spare Justine a glance as she stared at me through the closing door.

I crossed the distance between my bedroom door and the small kitchenette tucked away in the corner of the apartment, grabbing the two Pizza boxes on the way. I glanced down at the remnants of the dismantled pipe bomb after a moment before shaking my head. It had been closer than could have ever been considered comfortable. If Justine hadn't been here and... torn all the wires out at the same time.

At the very least, explaining to Murphy why there was a new crater in the middle of the street wouldn't have been pleasant. I froze in mid step, and my eyes widened. I swallowed a lump that had developed in my throat, and glanced towards the front door. It may not have even come to that. If someone had been willing to send me a bomb inside a pizza box, why wouldn't they be willing to patiently wait out in the street to see if a certain wily wizard would have tried to dispose of tin one of the garbage cans in a side alley?

The simple answer is that they would have.

I pushed the thought abruptly out of my mind and focused on the matter at hand. The pipe bomb sitting on top of the pepperoni pizza hadn't damaged it too badly. There was a slight indent, but nothing too unappetising.

I turned my gaze to the mess my small kitchen had become. There was a thin film of soot covering where the flames had spread, and there was a large puddle of water on the ground, that if I didn't clean up soon would seep into the floorboards and turn into rot.

I retrieved a spare rag from under the sink and went about cleaning up the soot and puddles, beginning with the charcoal stove.

Five minutes later the kitchen looked less like napalm had hit it, and more like a pyromanic preteen had torched it. I turned to the stove and opened the chamber, which was now filled with fresh material murmuring Flickum Biccus under my breath and igniting the charcoal inside the burner. It would take the better part of ten minutes to get hot enough that it'd cook the pizza enough that food poisoning wouldn't be a problem.

I pulled a flat steel tray out of my cupboard and placed it on the table, before picking up the cardboard pizza box and shuffling the pizza off of it and onto the tray.

I slid the pizza onto the stove and reached up to grab an egg timer. The egg timer was one of those old hourglass ones with minutes marked on both sides, I flipped it over and slapped it down onto the dining table, pulling out a chair a moment before I slumped back down into it.

I brought a hand up to my face and held my head up as a long drawn out sigh escaped me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the rug that covered the trapdoor to my lab in the subbasement. Down below Bob was pouring over a few centuries worth of magical knowledge in search of something, anything that I could use to save Susan from what she had been infected with.

I had been unceremoniously kicked out after the first fifteen times I had asked him if he had found anything yet.

My gaze flickered back over to the slowly heating up charcoal burner and the soot and burned kitchen tops around it. An ugly, unpleasant feeling squirmed through my chest.

Today had been a waste. I hadn't managed to catch Susan at her work and she had refused to pick up the phone. It was pretty clear that she didn't want me to see her. Thankfully I had found some hairs on a brush she had left behind a few weeks ago. They were still new enough, recent enough that they'd allow me to track her down. Hopefully the infection hadn't gone so far as to render them useless.

I didn't understand why Susan couldn't be an adult about it all and stop avoiding me. I glared at a particularly charred spot of wood as I felt my emotions shift again.

It was of course, at that point that my bedroom door opened and Justine appeared looking refreshed in the shirt I had loaned her, that seemed to contour to her curves magnificently. Her hair was a bit puffed up but had been combed and looked mostly dry. Her skin was still a little bit pale but there was a vibrant life about her as her eyes scanned the room and locked onto my figure. She smiled at me and crossed the distance, her nose crinkling as the arid smell of burn paint and wood hit her.

As she walked closer, I couldn't help but notice the smallish scars on her arms as she got closer. Pinprick sized holes that were just a shade darker than her lovely creamy skin. The moment Justine noticed my gaze on the scars her walk stiffened.

I gave her a weak smile. "You used some make up to hide them," I murmured observantly.

Justine nodded and drew her arms up, folding them and trying to hide the marks. "...thank you for the shower, Mister Dresden," she murmured and looked at the stove briefly. "I'm sorry," she said and after a brief moment of hesitation took a seat opposite me, facing towards the stove.

She fell silent, and we just sat there as the stove warmed up the room. Neither of us saying anything as we watched the pizza cook.

After a while Justine finally spoke.

"I have nightmares about what happened."

I didn't answer straight away, and she took that as a pass to continue, her gaze still fixated on the white hot coals inside the burner. "Thomas... doesn't understand. They... they did things to me, Mister Dresden." Justine turned her opaque gaze towards me, and I pointedly refused to meet it, keeping my gaze on the blackened stove top. "...They did things to me, but they did things... so much worse to you."

I shut my eyes tight and slowly turned my head away, and if rejecting what she had said, even as a shudder ran through me.

Justine fell silent, and said nothing.

"I have nightmares as well," I said, after who knows how long, opening my eyes again as the backs of my eyelids seemed to come alive with the figures from my dreams. "Or memories, I don't really know where they end and the other begins, and I really don't want to know," I said quietly.

I had been beaten before. It didn't happen often, but it had happened. Kravos managed to take a bite out of me, but in the end I had managed to tear him a part. But Bianca and her brood, had done things to me, terrible things that made me bite back a whimper and hold back tears.

The monsters had gotten me.

But she had done so much worse than that. She had made me enjoy what those things had done to me. It filled me with revulsion.

"Mister..." Justine began. "...Harry, can... can I please... can you... I mean to say… hold me," she asked in a small voice, looking at me, her eyes forlorn and seemingly drowning in hopelessness.

I bit down on my own emotional turmoil and turned my gaze to Justine. She looked so small, in my oversized t-shirt, her hair not entirely combed, her arms wrapped around herself protectively from phantom monsters that couldn't reach her—which didn't stop the chills. I gave her a weak smile and nodded.

She all but leapt out of her chair and skirted the tables' edge, before burying her face upon my neck, and wrapping her arms around me tightly. Her small 5'4 form shuddered as she pressed herself against me, like a small child that had stayed up late and watched the Exorcist, despite having been told not to, and needed to be reassured that they were safe.

I brought my arms up and wrapped them around Justine, holding her against me, comfortingly. It was a new experience, holding someone in my arms as they trembled, utter belief that I'd protect them so obvious inside their heart. It brought a measure of solace and calm to my turmoil ridden soul. There was something primal and soothing about holding Justine's smaller form in my arms. This was something new,

"It's... going to be alright," I murmured softly, willing myself to believe it, for as much her sake as my own.

I don't know how much time passed in the end, as we sat there, Justine in my arms, the smell of cooking pizza slowly overpowering the scent of burnt wood and paint. It didn't seem to matter as much, the nightmares, they seemed so far away, so easy to ignore when the figure in my arms seemed so real and willing to comfort me.

It didn't matter that all she wore was a white t-shirt—which proved she hadn't dried herself properly. It didn't matter that the shirt had begun to ride up to her waist, and soft, warming flesh was beginning to press against my exposed skin.

I knew on an instinctual level that the moment we let go, the moment would end, and we would never find ourselves like this again, bound in each other's arms, sheltering each other from the memories of the things that went bump in the dark. But eventually reality came knocking, and I could see the base of the pizza beginning to blacken.

I swallowed, and brought my mouth up from the crook of Justine's neck, where I had buried it. "I... should go change the pizzas over," I said, my voice thick and slow to my own ears.

Justine reluctantly began to let go, disentangling herself from me, and leaning back, affording me a glimpse of the smooth contour of her stomach. Instead of averting my gaze, I reached down and tugged the shirt back down, offering her a faint smile that was returned as she brought herself up onto her feet and stood.

I cleared my throat, and stood up, moving over to the stove and grabbing a pair of tongs from a hanging rack that I had installed to save space. Say what you will about kitchen designers and their blood thirsty ways, they did know a few good things that didn't cost the moon. Utilising the magical culinary abilities that only wizards possess, I managed to get the pizza onto a plate and set it aside on the table, before slipping Justine's' vegetarian monstrosity onto the tray and shoving it back onto the stove top.

The smell of the pepperoni pizza was pervasive, the spicy scent, the smell of the molten cheese, that I knew, if I took a bite would melt the top of my mouth, and it would be so worth it, at least until I finished eating and buyers regret would fill me, and tell me that the delicious pizza hadn't been worth melting the top of my mouth. The dent from the pipe bomb had even risen out of it, leaving only the faintest of depressions in the middle.

"That smells good," Justine murmured, eyeing the pizza hungrily, despite having ordered the vegetarian. She reached to the edge of the pizza and attempted to pinch a bit of cheese off. The moment her fingers touched it, however, she let out a yelp and drew her fingers back to her mouth. The digits disappeared between her soft, luscious lips and she sucked.

I smiled to myself. "It's still hot," I said a matter of factly, earning myself a glare from the dark haired girl as she nursed her burned finger.

Justine's glared relented as quickly as it came on and she continued to suck on her finger. She slowly drew the digit from her lips and gave me a mercurial look, before finally asking. "Kiss it better?"

I gave her an odd look. "You were sucking on it," I pointed out the obvious.

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's just a bit of spit," she said dismissively and offered me her scalded, glistening finger.

I raised a sceptical eyebrow as she pushed it up against my lips.

Justine stared at me, her eyes flickering with amusement as she held her digit against my lips, and after a few seconds dropped it, letting out a faint laugh. "The Japanese call that an indirect kiss," she informed me happily, before adding on. "Thank you, it feels much better."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, despite the smile on my lips that had formed, and found words failing me. I doubt she'd appreciate me calling her two kinds of crazy in a batshit basket. "Want me to cut you a slice?" I finally settled on and stood up, walking over to my cutlery draw and pulling out a large sharp knife.

"Yes please."

I expertly sliced and diced the pizza into eight slices and picked up a slice, causing the cheese to stretch. I offered her the slice.

She hesitated before taking it gingerly, careful not to let any of the gooey cheese touch her skin. She leaned down and nipped at one of the strings, biting it off. A shiver of delight ran through her rather attractively. She let out a small moaning sound. "So good!"

I allowed myself a small smile and pulled myself a slice, taking a bite out of it immediately. The wonderful flavour hit me, followed by the sensation of the top of my mouth getting napalmed. I let out a choked gasp of pain and opened my mouth, inhaling deeply as I tongued the gooey mess on the roof of my mouth.

"It's still hot," Justine said matter of factly, with a small secretive smile as she nursed her slice as she nibbled on the end of hers.

My eyes watered.

Give me warlocks, demons, vampires, werewolves, ghosts—I'll take it all and laugh in their face. I've stared down pain that would reduce lesser men to a puddle of whimpering drool. But god it hurt.

"Want me to kiss it better?" Justine offered lightly, her eyes sparkling in sympathetic amusement. I felt a soft foot rub against my shin and I barely held myself back from jumping at the sudden unexpected touch.

"I think I can handle it," I said, my voice off tone as I endured the pain from my mouth, and the rising libido that I had managed, up to now—mostly that is, to quell.

Justine's eyes sparkled with an open honesty that seemed all too human as her foot dropped back down and she took another measured nibble of the pizza she held gingerly between her fingertips. Even as she took her time eating her slice, and I took my time mourning the molten slag the roof of my mouth had become, I could see a question beginning to form in her eyes.

"Who are you?"

I blinked as Justine set her slice down and looked me directly in the eye, almost demanding that I meet her gaze as she asked her question. I focused on the bridge of her nose.

"I'm just Harry, your friendly neighbourhood wizard," I said after a few seconds of internal debate over which reference to use. I was really tempted to go with 'I am Ironman,' but I don't think she would have understood. I am the terror that flaps in the night might have been too much for her poor young brain to handle.

"…Isn't that Darkwing duck?"

Well, yeah, but I didn… I had begun to respond before realizing, "say that out loud," I finished awkwardly. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Justine gave an honest to god giggle and nodded before bringing a hand up to hide the large smile that had affixed itself to her lips. "Who were the other two?" she enquired with, hells bells, honest curiously.

I gave her an affronted look. "You get Dee-Double-You, but not Spiderman or Ironman?"

Her hand dropped back down to her side and a faint pout sat on her lips. "I'm not a nerd," she told me, her voice tinged with annoyance. "I watched cartoons when I was a young girl, I didn't read comic books." She told me in disdain.

I gave her a deeply insulted look which she returned wholeheartedly.

"Look, Justine." I began to say. I like you and everything but if you're gonna insult comics then we're going to have to have words," I said lightly as I picked up my slice and blew on it, before taking a hot- but not molten bite. I chewed a few times before swallowing. "They've got some pretty solid writing in them," I informed her with the air of a master teaching his disciple. "Solid ideals, solid principles—really, it's hard to go wrong with the golden age—"

"You're stalling,' Justine interrupted me unapologetically, her gaze having become hard as I had rambled on.

I bit back a grimace with another bite of pizza. Say what you wanted about her emotional state, she was nothing if not sharp. Personally I'd say she was three bricks short of a solid wall that was ready to come crashing down at the slightest provocation.

I froze and glanced at Justine, praying to whatever semi-phenomenal, nearly-cosmic power that had been saddled with watching over my crapsack of a life that I had managed to not speak that out loud.

Justine's hard gaze met mine briefly before I looked away. On the bright side she hadn't looked homicidal, or like she was about to scratch my face off. On the other hand she still looked like she wanted answers, and she wasn't going anywhere until morning.

"My mother died during childbirth," I informed her, my tone calm and at the same time weary. "I lived with my dad for about six years on the road, he was a magician." My lips strained briefly into a smile. "He never hit the big times or anything really spectacular, but he was a good man, and a good father." It felt strange talking about my dad after all these years."

I took a bite of pizza, and Justine took the chance to ask a question.

"Six years? Did he settle down with you somewhere?"

"No, he died." I watched Justine flinch slightly, and couldn't help but let out a bleak chuckle. "Brain aneurism," I explained quietly. "After that I got shuffled into an orphanage, four years later I got adopted."

A slither of contempt hit me, followed by an unexpected wave of nostalgia. "I can still remember it," I told Justine quietly. "It was few weeks after I had broken the state record for the long jump," I said. My nose crinkled. "Of course I'd beaten it by a meter, so obviously something had gone wrong, or I had cheated." I scoffed. "I didn't realize it back then, but that was my first magic."

"You were adopted?" Justine prompted before nibbling on the crust of her slice.

"Right, I got adopted by a guy named Justin. Two weeks after that he adopted another girl and I learned magic from him." I took a bite of pizza and ate it silently.

Justine's brow furrowed delicately as she patiently waited for me to finish chewing and continue the history lesson. Half a minute later she couldn't take it anymore. "And?"

"And," I continued, my voice pensive and quiet. "Six years later he tried to break me to his will and enthral me." Ugly emotions bubbled beneath the surface of my mind. "He sent a demon after me, and then I burned his house down while both of us were still in it. I'm still here. He isn't."

I could feel Justine's eyes on me as I kept my gaze locked on the sliced up pizza, before abruptly standing up and moving over to the stove, removing the vegetarian pizza from it before the bottom was too burnt to eat.

"You… were sixteen," Justine said quietly, not having moved an inch since I had spilt the proverbial beans.

"The monsters don't usually wait until you're of age before they start fucking with you." I said and glanced over at Justine, and as I did, I saw something pass between Justine's eyes. Something dark and mercurial, that I doubted I wanted to know the origin of.

—~—


	3. Chapter 3

**Organic Instability**

Part Three

—~—

"That was cruel," Justine said, her voice quiet and hurt.

Maybe it was, but it was a cruelty I was willing to have her hate me for if it meant saving her from said monsters, even if she was infatuated with one of them. But despite her whisper, she didn't seem to lean away, in fact she became pensive and stared at me.

"I was sixteen," She said, "I fell into a bad crowd and ended up at Zero."

I couldn't help it. I stared at Justine, open surprise on my features. I'd been a PI in Chicago for the better part of five years, and I had only heard of the place. Hell, I'd even been hired to find it. I had wasted a week and hadn't even got paid.

It was where the rich and beautiful (and rich) of Chicago went to indulge in things that strayed the boarder of the moral compass and went far, far over.

It also told me a bit about Justine herself. It was something that I recognised the moment I saw her of course. Beauty doesn't happen spontaneously. Beauty is bred, beauty is selected, and beauty is refined. Hundreds of years of selective breeding can do wonders for your genes. It was easy to put one and two together with Justine. She had been a rich girl who had found friends in high places who found themselves somewhere low.

"...And that's what got you into this mess," I murmured. "A place like Zero, that's perfect for them." I let out a bark of laughter at myself earning a look of worry from Justine. I shook my head offered her a brief smile. "Sorry, things are starting to make more sense."

I took a bite of pizza and savoured the warmth and spicy flavour of the pepperoni.

As we sat there in amicable silence, Justine continued to nibble on her slice, until it was gone, and her fingers were shiny with the pepperoni pizza's grease.

The dark haired girl's eyes flickered around, looking for something. It took me a few seconds to realize that she was looking for some tissues, or a cloth to wipe her hands on.

"Just wipe them on the shirt," I suggested.

She gave me a surprised look, but after a few seconds did exactly that, wiping them on the clean shirt and dirtying it. She then moved to pick up another pepperoni slice, before hesitating and glancing toward the vegetarian.

"Go for it." I gestured toward it. "All yours."

Justine blinked at the massive uncut pizza. "...I can't eat it all," she murmured, before glancing at my plate and it's still unfinished first slice. "You're not going to eat more?"

"I'm just thinking."

"While you're thinking..." she hesitated for a brief moment before she made up her mind and spoke her request. "Could you tell me more?"

It took me a few moments of silence before I decided.

"I ran. I ran away as far and as fast as I could. But I didn't get too far before the White Council found me," I said. "I don't... exactly remember everything that happened. It's all a big blur, but eventually I was taken to trial for killing Justin using magic."

"You're not allowed to kill with magic?" Justine asked, interested. Interested enough that the near scowl from having to wipe her fingers on her clothes had vanished.

"You can't do something with magic that you don't believe in," I explained, my voice as soft and distant as my mind had become. "Killing someone with magic... it's wrong on such a fundamental level that every time it happens the world gets that much darker. Using the power of creation like that... it twists you inside." A shudder ran through me as memories unbidden, flashed through my mind.

"You... killed a lot of vampires the other night," Justine said, staring at me with an abundance of concern.

"Vampires aren't people," I said, a bit more firmly than I intended to, from the looks of her reaction. I let out a long breath. "Vampires—they don't have souls. They're just things that look like people when they have a flesh mask on." I paused and slumped back in my seat. "I might have killed people, real, honest to god innocent people." A shudder ran through me. "Those kids who'd been trapped in there." I felt like throwing up.

The worst part was, I'd never truly know. The flames, they had reduced everything to cinders and ash. I'd had Murphy get me a copy of the report that one of the MEs had written up for some of the remains. The remains that they had examined were humanlike, but in their words definitely not human.

"You didn't," Justine said firmly, a conviction in her voice that seemed to knock the angst out of me. "I was there, I was awake the entire time, Harry. By then..." she swallowed. "By then they'd either become food, or one of them." She shuddered.

That made me feel a bit better, if only a bit. I reached over, after a brief hesitation before clasping my hand over Justine's, giving her grease covered fingers a soft squeeze of gratitude.

"They kept me blindfolded for the entire trial," I told Justine. "I don't remember what they said. But they didn't kill me," I said quietly. "In the end a stubborn old man stepped in to save me from having my head cut off. He taught me what the truth was behind magic. He did more than that. He taught me what it meant to be a wizard."

It was of course at that point, that I noticed that I had neglected to release Justine's hand, and at some point she had twisted her hand in my grip and clasped my hand right back, locking her fingers within mine. Her eyes were locked onto my face with an unnatural intensity that had me looking everywhere but back at her as I recounted the tale of my path through my teenage years.

"After a few years I set out on my own. I travelled all over the eastern seaboard. I helped a few people, got kicked out of even more towns and usually ended up smack dab in the middle of some stupid conflict, making it even more of a mess."

"Eventually I found my way to Chicago and started to work for a detective agency called Ragged Angels." I chuckled and leaned back, tugging my hand from Justine's grasp, causing her to reluctantly let go. "I worked for that bastard for three years before I finally got my own PI license and started my own…" I trailed off.

"You didn't like the owner?" Justine asked curiously as she gingerly picked up another slice of pepperoni, the vegetarian monstrosity lay forgotten to the side.

"Nick is good people," I told her honestly. "From that point on its all demons, wizards and werewolves, oh my."

Justine stared at me, unable to tell if I was being serious or not. She eventually relented and took another bite of her slice. I couldn't help but notice a stray string of cheese just hanging from the side of the airborne slice she held.

I reached over and plucked it off, earning myself an outraged look from Justine as I popped it in my mouth.

"You—!" Justine gaped at me, as if I had done something unthinkable.

I grinned back at her. "Me." I said, my tone light and nonchalant.

Her jaw shut with a light clack of her teeth and she set the pizza down, letting out a long breath. "Those are the best parts," she told me in an annoyed voice.

"I know," I said. "That's why I ate it."

"You're incorrigible."

"Please," I scoffed. "I'm so corrigible that…" I trailed off, coming up with a blank for the metaphor.

She blinked, and then let out a warm laugh, giving me a smile that reached her eyes. "You're funny."

I stared at her for a few seconds. "You know, I don't hear that often enough." I said wistfully. It'd be a cold day in hell before my so-called friends would concede to my devilish wit. I reached up and rubbed my unshaven jaw. "It feels good," I admitted shamelessly.

Justine hesitated for a moment, before her cheeks coloured lightly. "Uhm, so what does incorrigible mean?" She asked abashedly.

I chuckled. "You're too precious," I said with a smile on my lips. "It means that someone is incapable of being corrected." I told her, before pausing and considering. "Actually you're right," I admitted. "I am entirely incorrigible." I felt proud admitting it and couldn't help but lean back in my chair and smile in self-deprecation.

Justine gave a thoughtful sound and picked her food back up taking another bite.

I finished off my own before reaching into the box and expertly pulling a slice from the box. The melted cheese began to pull taut, resulting in multiple strands of golden perfection hanging loose, just waiting for me to—

Justine reached across the table and grabbed the biggest strand and pulled, resulting in the entire top of the slice of pizza falling off.

Neither of us moved for a few moments, and just stared at the decrepit slice of cooked dough in my hand, and the mess of pepperoni, cheese and tomato on the dining kitchen table.

Justine's shoulders began to tremble, and at first I thought she was about to burst into tears. She burst out into full blown laughter, wholesome, warm and delighted laughter. I couldn't help but laugh as well.

As our laughter died down, I brought the barren slice up to my mouth and took a bite.

Justine responded with a second bout of breast jiggling laughter.

For the first time in weeks, I felt my fears and self-loathing at being unable to save Susan fade, just slightly. Just enough for me to enjoy the pizza in my hand, and the toppings of said slice that were spilt onto the table.

Justine smiled at me, and brought her fingers up to her lips, wrapping her plump, moist lips around them and sucking off the tomato sauce that had managed to coat them in her ill-conceived attempt at revenge.

As time continued to march onward, Justine spoke to me of things that seemed inane, and yet at the same time the most interesting things in the world. As she spoke she became more animated, moving her hands in precise but exaggerated movements. Her eyes began to gleam with an excess of emotion, her lovely features becoming more and more expressive.

"I'm sleepy," she announced finally, after what seemed like hours, and smiled at me.

"You don't say," I murmured skeptically as I eyed the empty pizza box in front of me. How she had managed to spend the entire time talking and still consume half the pizza was beyond me. Moreover she had eaten a whole half of my pizza. The vegetarian monstrosity had long since become cold and forgotten.

I took a moment to look at Justine. I hadn't noticed it through her... unusually potent stream of emotions, but she looked like she was about to fall asleep at the table.

"I'll go make the bed for you," I told her, and stood up.

Of course, what I really meant was 'I'm going to go swap my pillows with the spare ones so I don't get cooties all over it.' Or something along those lines.

She yawned and nodded, reaching up to rub her eyes.

"Stop," I told her firmly.

She did.

I pointed at her oily-tomato-y digits.

She blushed and mumbled a thank you before standing up and walking over to the kitchen bench, where a roll of paper towels laid.

I couldn't help but notice how really, really short my massive shirt was on her. Or rather, how it rode up when she stretched. I licked my lips and pointedly looked away before standing and purposefully leaving the kitchen and heading into my room.

My bed was still a mess from when I had crawled out of it more than a week earlier. The sheets were crumpled, bunched up and the pillows were strewn everywhere. I had been in a rush to get out of it last time I had been in it, and now I just wanted to collapse over it's crumpled sheets and just go to sleep.

Unfortunately, that would have to wait until my house guest departed. AS I pulled the week old sheets off and dropped them in the corner, I lamented my ill-conceived luck. It wasn't that the couch was uncomfortable. It was just it wasn't my bed.

"Can I help?"

I almost jumped at the sudden, unexpected question, but managed to stop myself from spinning around. Instead, I continued to calmly strip the bed and dump the used sheets.

"Its fine," I reassured her as I dumped the pile of sheets in my hamper, and then took a new set out from the linen closet.

"Mister Dresden," Justine said, her voice quiet and hesitant, prompting me to stop what I was doing and turn to face her.

Her cheeks held a soft pink blush, and her eyes were averted, looking anywhere in the room but at me. Both her hands were clutching the front of the shirt and tugging on it, inadvertently giving me a glimpse of the smooth curves of her breasts.

I swallowed. "What is it?" I finally managed to ask as I kicked my hormones out of the way.

"This... is kind of embarrassing, but... I'm not used to sleeping alone."

"It's a good time to learn," I said lightly, unwilling to take the obvious bait. I pointed towards the door. "If you need me tonight, I'll be just out there." I said, before resuming my efforts of making my bed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Justine squirm, holding in a protest, before she settled down.

As I smoothed the last crease out of the sheets and stood up she finally spoke again. "...If I get uncomfortable I'm going to come out and sleep on the lounge with you," she said with a decided finality you only hear from young children.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and turned back to her. The retort on my lips died as I saw the serious look on her face. It stunned me for a brief moment.

"Okay," I said after a brief pause, and took a few seconds to gather myself. "Okay, how about this. I'm not ready to go to bed yet," I told her. "But when I do I'll come check on you." I made my offer upfront. "And if you still aren't comfortable alone I'll stay with you."

The dark eyed girl stared at me suspiciously, before nodding to herself, as if affirming that I was being honest.

I gestured towards the bed with a kind, if slightly strained smile. "Your bed."

Justine's face melted into a smile of gratitude and she stepped forwards, wrapping her arms around my chest and hugging me. The action had the unintended—or perhaps intended—consequence of pressing her breasts against my chest.

"You're cold," I observed, awkwardly as I lifted my hands up and patted her on the back.

Justine gave a muffled laugh into my chest and pressed her body closer. "Thank you," she murmured to me. "You're a good person."

I resisted the urge to correct her, and just stood there, my arms slowly relaxing and dropping into a more natural hug.

Eventually her high-beams turned off and she stepped back, smiling up at me warmly. "Come to bed soon."

She slipped around me towards my bed and ruined the perfectly tucked in sheets, before slipping in—I averted my eyes a second too late as her feet left the ground. The impish smile I received told me it wasn't an accident.

"Good night," I said dryly, and turned away.

"...thank you."

"...Sweet dreams."

I just the door behind me and let out a long breath as I did.

I strode across the living room and dropped down onto the couch, bringing a hand up to my face and inexpertly palming it. I didn't feel like going to sleep, there was a lot on my mind, the one—possibility more—thugs outside in the street were the least of my concerns. The wards would keep them out and then some, unless they had a secret stash of monsters to chuck at them they were out of luck.

I hadn't been exaggerating when I had said Justine had burned water. She had managed to inadvertently kick the laws of thermodynamics in the face. The fact that she had done it didn't scare me, it surprised me—and at the same time made sense—but no, what scared me was that she had done it by accident.

That was not minor league talent. Justine had Talent with a capital T—raw, unrefined, potential nuclear talent—but talent none the less.

I swallowed.

It made a bit more sense why Thomas had been all but too happy to send her over as a 'thank you'.

I'd be willing to bet he had been feeding on her since they had met.

I'd be willing to bet that he hadn't fed on her since that night.

I'd be willing to bet that in the last week Justine had shown other signs.

My eyes flickered over to the rug that covered the trapdoor leading down to my subterranean lair. Bob was no doubt continuing his search for answers in his collective memory of the last four hundred years.

I exhaled through my nose.

There was no conceivable way that he'd be wasting time reading another of his romance novels.

I was on my feet before I had even finished the thought. The tips of my nose slipped under the rug and with a sweep of my foot I kicked it back, revealing the trapdoor. I glanced over at my bedroom door, and paused for a moment.

I listened.

Without hearing so much as a peep from the room, I reached down and tugged the trapdoor open. There was a faint sensation of stillness in the air as I set the door gently down on the piled rug. I slipped my foot into the fourth or so run on the ladder and made my way down into the lab.

The Subbasement turned lab was alight with flickering light from the candles that lined the walls. The kerosene heater in the corner was turned off, and I was immediately aware of how bad of an idea it had been to head down into the ice cold room without my flannel robe to warm up. I bit back the urge to head back up and shore up in something warmer.

There was a long table in the center of the room, and smaller tables lining three of the walls around it. At the opposite end of the room was a clear space with a brass summoning circle had been laid out, and secured into place with U-shaped bolts. Lining the walls above the tables were shelves upon shelves of oddities as well as empty cages, tupperware containers and a half a dozen stacks of dusty old books, manuscripts and notebooks filled with my own scribbles that would send a graphologist into hysterics.

On the same shelf sat a bleach white skull which had been inscribed with various sigils and runes more than four centuries prior. Their meaning individually was as far beyond me as the moon. But I knew what they did when combined. They created a sort of sanctuary for spirits. A place where a spirit would be hidden, and protected from the sunlight during the day, as well as any other cleansing force that would boot them out of existence.

"Bob," I said. I approached the skull at the opposite end of the lab. I stopped in front of it and waited for a few seconds. "Bob," I said louder.

A pair of pin-prick sized lights ignites within the empty sockets of the skull, blossoming into tiny orange candle-like flames. "Categorically searching through the accumulated knowledge of several centuries of knowledge takes time, Harry," the skull said, "If you want me to be thorough then you need to give me time."

"We can afford to let that sit on the back burner," I said. "For a small while at least." I grimaced.

Bob's eyes stilled in something akin to surprise. "...Harry, did you hit your head?" Bob said, "I'm entirely focused on finding your cute mocha monster a cure."

I exhaled loudly through my nose, and clenched my fist. I reached up and calmly set my hand down on top of the open book in front of Bob's skull. I closed my eyes and counted to ten before opening them again.

I smiled down at Bob, beaming at him.

"H-Harry, you're looking a bit homicidal," Bob said nervously. "Perhaps you should—"He let out a gasp of distress as I clenched my fingers, and the pages crumbled under my touch. "Don't do anything rash!" The skull pleaded. "I'm looking!" He insisted. "I can—I am multitasking! Twenty Years down three hundred and eighty nine left!"

"Bob," I said through gritted teeth, and slowly lifted my hand up.

The skull gave a sigh of relief.

"I need you to accomplish two tasks for me," I told him calmly. I held up a finger. "First, there is a girl in my bed room. I want you to check her to see if she's a wizard," I told him. My gaze hardened. "Only that," I said firmly.

Bob's eyes flared to life, momentarily eclipsing the candles in the room and he leered. "A new kitten?" he said, delighted. "Is she pretty? A nubile young little thing? You must let me meet her!"

"No," I said, my voice firm and unyielding as I put my foot down. "Just check her. Do not say hello, do not let her see you. Do not pass go, do not collect 200."

"You want to keep her all to yourself?" Bob said, scandalized. "We're friends, Harry!"

"It's not like that."

It wasn't like that at all. No matter how Justine acted, no matter how coy, or sexually charged she managed to act 'incidentally', It was not going to happen. There was too much ick factor in sharing with a vampire—not to mention the more pressing matter of how young she was, and how much she had already endured. I refused to be another name on the list of monsters that had scarred her. No matter how much she wanted me to.

I swallowed. "Just, just check her Bob," I said quietly.

"...Alright Harry," Bob reluctantly agreed. "What was the other thing you wanted me to do, after checking kitty for claws?"

I closed my eyes and collected my thoughts. "After you're done, go and scout outside the apartment. Someone tried to give me an extra bang for my buck. I want to know if they're still out there."

"I'm pretty deep into the research," Bob protested. "You might even say I'm balls deep into it. I'll be able to check your little wizardling out but then I really should get back to... researching."

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, very, very slowly. When I opened my eyes the red hazed that had threatened to blind me to the reality of me grinding Bob's skull into magical white powder and selling the by-product to a drug addict, was gone.

"Bob, if you do what I asked you," I said slowly. "I will buy you a new novel, brand new, best seller."

Bob's eyes flickered for a brief moment before they went out. It was his version of a poker face. His eyes briefly reappeared. "How much are we talking Harry?" his voice came out low, almost a whisper.

I had him.

"Twenty," I made him the offer. It was quadruple the usual cost of his trashy literature.

"Twenty," he echoed almost distastefully. "Very well. Permission to leave?"

"Granted. You have two hours Bob," I told him and let out a long breath that congealed into mist.

Bob's eyes exploded out of the skull into a spectacular cloud of luminous mist that twisted upon itself in a nebula before rushing up out of the basement and into the apartment.

I clambered back up the ladder and into the apartment itself. I couldn't see a wisp or mote of Bob anywhere. There was no light in Justine's room either. Nor was there a shriek of shock at the appearance of a leering cloud of energy. Either Justine had fallen asleep, or Bob had actually listened and not shown himself.

I dropped back down onto the couch and closed my eyes for a moment. I found myself shifting around, and leaning backwards, ending with my head resting against the arm rest and my eyes becoming heavy. It wouldn't hurt to have a few minutes shut eye, I had decided. I was already half way there anyway.

As I drifted off into sleep, the quasi-miasmic muck in my head drew together into the nightmares that had become commonplace whenever I closed my eyes. Being held down by hideous figures, being unable to fight back. Being overwhelmed and tortured.

The worse part always was the same.

I couldn't escape. I couldn't stop them.

I didn't even want to at times. Those were the worst moments. It became too easy sometimes. The monsters in my dreams would remain hidden behind flesh masks, the only remnants of their true nature their bottomless black eyes, whiny hisses and long, disgustingly long tongues.

At some point, the monsters gave way to something that filled me with a warmth that had nothing to do with the remnants of venom that still ran through my veins. Soothing, sweet touches. Flashes of gentle beckoning smiles, long silky hair.

Looking back, I can't remember what I had dreamt about, what had managed to save me from the nightmares. I could recall the vaguest of touches, the softest, smoothest brush of a wanton caress.

Waking up was one of the most intensely pleasant moments of my life. All the half-formed impressions of my dreaming mind had sent me echoed across my skin in phantom kisses.

There was a weight on top of me that was light, and warm, and oh-so familiar that, coupled with the heat from my dreams inspired an increase in the beat of my heart rate.

At some point my hand had dropped to the ground, and the cool floorboards had chilled my digits. I brought my hand up, and pressed it against the weight on top of me.

Smooth, soft, warm flesh met my fingers.

It felt good.

I traced my fingers across exposed skin that seemed to quiver. Eventually, as my hand moved upwards, along a smooth curve, it found itself touching upon the fabric of a shirt that had ridden up, and was bunched against me.

As the moments ticked on, and I found myself at the edge of coherency, the fine line between following my body's basest desires, and the waking consciousness that contained my sensibilities.

Even then, even in that delirious, intoxicating swirl of desire and hunger, I think I could have gathered my sleepy wits and brought myself back under control. It would have been like biting off my own pinky, but even so. I might have managed it.

I could feel her, on top of me, the shirt I had lent her was doing little to cover her, and the shirt I was wearing had somehow become pushed up, and the smooth contour of her stomach pressed against mine in the most distracting of ways.

I could feel her breath, the soft rise and fall of her chest that sent flutters of heat dashing across my nerves. I could feel the throbbing frustration that came from her laying atop of me, her lower body almost entwined with mine, all that separated them was the unbearably thin cloth that covered me.

The thought of it sent an electric tingle of excitement running through me, and Justine stirred happily as my body reacted to it.

I could have ended it, right there. I had more than enough reason to.

Susan, who had been—was my lover trusted me to be faithful. She may have been bitten by the monsters, but she was still mine, and she deserved better than me giving in to the desires of flesh, as strong as they were.

Hell, just imagining Michael's disapproving face should have been enough to shatter the lust at its base.

And then, there was Justine herself. Justine, who was barely old enough to vote, and probably hadn't. Justine, who had been abused, and had suffered more than anyone should have had to endure at her age. She had been hurt by the monsters, and I the last thing I wanted was to add another name to that list—especially if it was my own.

I slowly opened my eyes.

The candles had long since burnt out, leaving the apartment in a state of darkness that was only broken by the faintest beams of moonlight through the dirty street level windows set high in the wall facing the street.

A dark head of hair lay against my chest, unmoving. My libido seemed to find itself at a loss for words at the sight.

I absently note that my hand was tracing soft ellipses upon Justine's waist, where it had found itself in my waking moments. Having been found out, their autonomous movement came to a grinding halt, and with it, Justine stirred.

—~—


End file.
